That Ship Has Sailed
by LixxyChan
Summary: My entries for the 'Multi-Ship Challenge' - Ron with lots of people.
1. Your Love is My Drug

Ron/Draco.

* * *

Ron Weasley hated Slytherins. They were sneaky, manipulative and down right creepy sometimes.

Even more than Slytherins in general, Ron Weasley hated the Malfoy's. Slytherin as they came, not to mention rich, snobby and rude. The Malfoy's represented everything that Ron saw wrong with the wizarding world; prejudice, cruel and disdaining of new development. And they had all been Slytherin's for generations, which seemed to scream terrible things to Ron's logic.

Up until today, the only thing he had hated more than the Malfoy's in general was Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was spoilt, rude, derogatory and a down-right foul sort of person. Ron had watched Draco sneak around breaking rules and getting away with it, being horrible to people who don't deserve it, drive people into rages with a sentence and then sneer in the face of their despair.

Yes, Draco Malfoy had shown all the traits of someone that Ron wouldn't like. Ever.

Somehow, it had come to a point where they were hiding in broom closets as the blonde surrendered under the domineering kisses of the tall keeper.

It had started after the war, when Draco was looking so lost and confused. Grey eyes filled with despair as he father was sentenced to Azkaban and his mother to house arrest, wandering the halls of Hogwarts for his final year with no friends, no family and seemingly no future.

Ron had yearned to make him feel something positive- anything positive- and once he had gotten that first taste, he had kept coming back for more, and more.

It was not something he could help, but Draco Malfoy had become an obsession to him, and he couldn't stop. Draco Malfoy was his drug, and he just kept drowning to keep that lost look off the pale face of his once rival.


	2. Moving On

Ron/Harry.

* * *

He knew Hermione was waiting for him outside; they had agreed that at nine they would meet for breakfast. He had given his word, but yet again he would not be able to keep the promise.

He gazed down at the lithe body sleeping next to his in the small bed, black hair spilling across tanned, narrow shoulders. He ran a pale finger across the smooth skin, marvelling at the sensation. Sometimes, he could not believe his life was like this.

Hermione probably expected him to ask her out soon. They had dated after the death of Dumbledore, but they had broken up when she had abandoned him and Harry in the woods during the hunt for horcruxes. She was supposed to be the rational and reliable one.

And now the war was over and all was forgiven, but he had moved on. Harry was so delicate, so precious. He had so many deaths he felt responsible for, and so little love in his life.

Ron needed to give him that, in any way he could. If that meant staying with Harry forever, the ginger would do anything to keep Harry with a smile on his face. Anything was worth it; even the wrath of Hermione.

A smile pulled at his cheeks as he wrapped himself around the slender figure to go back to sleep. If he was going to face Hermione's rage anyway, he may as well do so on some more sleep.


	3. Quidditch Girls

Ron/Alicia Spinnet.

* * *

Ron had always admired strong, resilient Quidditch girls. They were reliable and sexy, wrapped up in a wonderful leather package just for him.

He watched the Gryffindor team go about their practise, his blue eyes tracking one girl in particular as she swept lines across the sky in graceful loops.

Alicia Spinnet fit the type of girl he lusted after perfectly, and his eyes tended to cling to her whenever possible. Given his terrible lack of tact, really it was a miracle that she hadn't caught him already. Still, he longed, so he watched her when he could and daydreamed the rest of the time.

Time went on, and he picked up girls and dropped them not long after; they never lived up to the standards his eyes had tracked out on the field. Most were lacking the grace, or the will that he had spied upon for so many years. Hermione was too into her books, and Lavender was too into her looks. The rest were vapid, or irritating, or silly. Comparing them to her and finding them lacking again and again, he kept things casual. They could never match up.

Although he watched her for a very long time, he never confessed to the girl who eventually married his brother.


	4. Jealousy

Ron/Theodore - one-sided.

* * *

Blue eyes glared across the distance, jealousy burning in his heart.

Across the lawn was a tawny haired boy, his cheeks pulled into a sardonic smirk as he playfully poked at his companions ribs to find a ticklish area. The girl getting prodded squealed and squirmed at the sensation as she tried to escape the fingers digging into her sensitive spots.

Ron turned his eyes away from the pair in anger. He couldn't watch the frivolous flaunting of a relationship right in front of him- not one which contained _him_.

The obsession had come across his quite unexpected; he'd never really noticed the tall Slytherin before, preferring to keep his eyes on more approachable options. Then one class he'd noticed the graceful twist of Theodore Nott's wrist, and he'd been having a difficult time turning his eyes away since.

Theodore was rich, pure-blooded and straight. Not the usual things that attracted the ginger, but something in his careless elegance and aristocratic mannerisms had pulled his attention in and not let go since.

His eyes unwillingly flittered back to the pair by the lake again, and his temper blazed as he saw the boy sweeping the dark hair away from her eyes. The closeness between them attacked him beneath the ribs, and a viscous strike of hatred flared up in his stomach for the girl.

Sick of watching them, he turned on his heel and stormed away. The uneasy feeling in his gut stayed with him, and he resolved to get a handle on this stupid crush sooner rather than later.


	5. Burns

Ron/Daphne.

* * *

Long fingers tugged the bottle out of the limp hands, placing it gently on the nearby table as he tried to assess the wellbeing of the slumped figure.

The large bottle of whisky he had relieved her of was mostly empty and he sighed in exasperation. Despite how soundly she appeared to be sleeping now, her morning was not going to be fun. And she had fallen asleep on his sofa again, which never a good sign of her emotional state.

He leaned forwards and gently brushed the disarray of hair which was falling in front of her blank features out of the way. Asleep she looked so unworried and so unhurt. Sadness pulled at his heart, knowing that once she awakened from her dreams the fleeting reprieve from depression would depart as fast as it came.

She would not be comfy on the sofa, but he could fix that. He carefully picked her up and carried the slack body through the small hallway to his bedroom. She wouldn't be disorientated from the change of scenery when she woke up; her habit of ending up at his house after a night of drowning her feelings away was an unhealthily common one.

One hand tiredly scratched at his mess of ginger hair, and he headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and a painkiller for when she woke up.

Ronald Weasley was not sure how he had become her safe haven, but whenever she came here he would do his best to sooth the terrors which haunted her delicate features.

Daphne Greengrass had been a neutral Slytherin in the war; although by trying to keep away from any side of the war, she had been burned by both sides in the end. Her mother and sister had died at the hands of her father in front of her, and then her father had ended up in Azkaban shortly after. With no family or friends left to be on her side, it was no wonder she had ended up more than a little bit unstable.

Still, he would be here for her whenever she needed it.

Placing the glass and potion on the bedside table lightly, he eased her out of her uncomfortable clothing and into a large plaid shirt he often used as a nightshirt. Placing a chaste kiss on her hairline, he left the room and collapsed on the sofa to sleep.


	6. Alphabet

Ron/Luna.

* * *

_A is for abstract, strange as can be._

Ron stared blankly at the lithe young woman swaying across from him, his eyes twitching. He wasn't sure what a blubbering humperdink was, but he was fairly sure he didn't keep one. Especially not in his hair. This girl was barmy.

The girl in question was Luna Lovegood, the peculiar friend of his sister. Golden locks were held back in place by a thick ribbon which had hazelnuts attached to the ends, for some reason he couldn't decipher. Her eyes peered up at him, and he shifted uncomfortably. Time to make a hasty retreat.

_B is for bizarre, unpredictable as the sea._

Ron ducked suddenly, evading the twisting blue spell shot at him from across the room. The blonde he knew to be responsible seemed to have made it her job to keep everyone on their toes; her spells shot randomly across the room, missing people by a hair or lightly dancing across the space they had just vacated.

To match her odd nature she appeared to know the most obscure and interesting spells; Ernie had accidentally fallen into the path of one the week past, and had not managed to remove the butterfly wings from his back yet. Madam Pomfrey was similarly having difficult problems removing the transfiguration.

Or, at least, they _believed_ it was transfiguration. No one else really knew, and Luna wasn't sharing.

_C is for curious, intriguing as a riddle._

The ginger once again stood in front of the skinny girl, as he peered into her vacant expression. He wondered what she was thinking about. He also wondered where her shoes were gone- for some reason, she had decided to go without today.

He wondered why she was out here alone, as she had made plenty of friends in the past two years. He wondered how she managed to believe in so many creatures without proof. He wondered where she learnt so many spells.

Ron wondered a lot of things about this tiny flake of a girl. He sat next to her. Time to get some answers.

_D is for dainty, like a tiny fairy fiddle._

For some reason, blue eyes were glued to her wrists. He wasn't sure why, but something about her snow-white, elegant wrists attracted his attention like little had done before.

The wrist moved in the familiar patter for a patronus charm, the angle changing as she went through the spell. Blue eyes narrowed in thought.

There had to be something in particular that was attracting him. He just had to figure it out. He glanced up briefly when the movement stopped unexpectedly to meet her eyes, and flushed. He tried to stop staring after that, but something about her wrists always brought his eyes back.

It was more than a surprise when a week later she asked him on a date. He _thinks_ that's what she was doing anyway.


End file.
